


Saint Dean

by Mrstserc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrstserc/pseuds/Mrstserc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A human Castiel and Sam discuss (much to Dean's embarassment) the possibility of the elder Winchester's future sainthood. What exactly DO you make Dean the patron saint of? A cutscene from the Before the Fall 'Verse. Can be read alone but takes place before Season 8. Slightly Destiel. Rated for language because Dean speaks. Standard disclaimer applies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saint Dean

Cas is sitting on the bed nearest the door in the hotel room laughing one of his open-mouthed noiseless laughs; Sam notices this from the table where he is working at the laptop. Dean’s left several books open on the table, but he just went on a coffee run. Now that Dean is not drinking in solidarity to Cas getting off pills, no one is drinking. Seems strange after all these years to stock the old cooler with cans of soda and bottles of Gatorade and water. But it’s a good strange, Sam thinks, even the coffee is a healthier habit than the beer and Hunter’s Helper.

Sam glances over at Cas again wondering what on earth book he is reading that he’s finding so funny, still not used to Cas the fallen angel. Cas in sweat pants and one of his brother’s favorite Led Zeppelin T-shirts. Practically giggling over – Sam sits straighter, swivels his head around to read the spine of the book he’s finding so amusing – the Gideon Bible? This ought to be good, Sam thinks.

The door opens and Dean comes back in, carrying a drink holder and doling out coffees. His a large black cup of Joe, no cream, no sugar. Sam’s a double vanilla latte, and a double mocha for Cas. Sam grunts his thanks, watching the interplay between his brother and Cas, who accepts his drink as though it were communion at a church. Dean sees Sam watching and blushes a little.

“What’s up, Sammy? Find anything yet?”

Sam takes the lid off his coffee and blows gently across the top to cool it before taking a sip. “Been a little distracted by your boyfriend, Mr. Giggles.”

Dean gives his brother a glare. Sam knows Dean hates it when he refers to Cas as his boyfriend, and he knows that’s why Sam does it. He’ll bide his time, but there will be payback. He glances back at Cas. “So what’s so funny, Cas, in that…” He cocks his head to check out what Cas is reading. “…Bible?” If the last word was a little squeaky, Dean was prepared to blame the hot coffee he just sipped burning his lower lip.

Cas lowers his mocha looking concerned, and intrigued, at Dean’s careful touching of his scalded lip with his tongue and his finger. Sam figures he better either get this conversation going or get another room. “What’s funny, Cas?” He demands. “You know it’s disconcerting to have you sitting around chuckling over our holy books.”

“My apologies, Sam.” Cas sounds as formal and stilted as when he was a full-blown angel. Dean sighs, recognizing the defensive tone from the angel. He shoots a scolding look at his brother who shrugs his shoulder unrepentant. He tosses his jacket off, kicks off his boots and sits next to Cas on the bed.

“It’s not important, Cas. We were just wondering what you found funny,” Dean’s gentle voice soothes the fallen angel, who sets his coffee down to page back into Psalms. “I was remembering David and how his tone was frequently as disrespectfully sarcastic as yours, and yet this version, … this translation presents it as though he is completely sincere. I find that amusing.” Dean and Sam both get carefully blank looks on their faces.

“Or here, in Proverbs…” Cas chuckles again. “Solomon was so drunk when he said this. I doubt he even remembered it.”

Dean gets a crooked smile on his face, fascinated all over again. “Cas, you little name-dropper.” He smirks at him fondly. “How many of these people have you met?”

“How many of these books are as inaccurate as the Winchester Gospels Chuck wrote,” Sam demands.

“Dean, I did not meet them – but I was keeping watch and observed them. Sam, that is what I am laughing over. And I was thinking how someday, they could have the Wisdom of Dean.” That gets a chuckle out of Sam, too, but Dean scowls at them both.

“What makes you so sure I’m gonna be in some bible someday?”

Cas gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Well, you were foretold, and discussed in several of the earlier books.” Cas has shifted into theology professor mode. “The Righteous Man, like Job …”

“Job? Job! Holy Frikkin’ Hell, Cas, that’s one distinction I could do without. Man, poor Job. He had it worse than me. So you think Team Free Will is  gonna develop into some kind of warning tale to scare kids, huh?”

Cas looks away, but not before Dean catches the pained look on his face. Sam catches Cas’s eye and they both look down. The lightness has left the room, and it is a troubled Dean who tries to figure out what he just said wrong.

“What’d I say that put your halo all wonky?” Dean asks Cas. And Sam shakes his heads. Sam tells him that it is saints who get halos, not angels. “Well, how do you know, Sam. I mean, geeze, we didn’t even believe in angels not too long ago?”

Cas looks over at the man perched on the bed next to him. Short hair carefully spiked, light glowing on it from the lamp behind him. Then he catches Sam’s eye who sees the same thing.

“Saint Dean,” Sam says with a laugh that cracks in the middle, real emotion trying to force itself to the surface.

“Yeah, right, Sammy. Saint Dean, patron saint of hunters and drunks.” Dean’s voice drips sarcasm.

Cas clears his throat. “I’m afraid those positions are already taken. Saint Simon is considered the patron of drunks, whereas Saint Monica is the patron of alcoholics. I’m told there is a difference. As far as hunters, Eustace and Hubert are considered patrons. But I think you could be the patron of the type of hunter you are talking about.”

“How about mechanics?” Sam asks, also glad to be moving the conversation out of dangerous territory, but he sounds a little distant and is still not meeting Dean’s eyes. As a matter of fact, Sam and Cas are both starting to get all weird about this, Dean notices..

“Eligius,” Cas answers. “But that  was awarded because he was the patron of other smiths. I’m sure he would share. There may be an opening for Patron of travelers. You’d be good at that.” Cas’s voice is sad. The Angel of Thursdays was once also a patron of travelers.

Dean does not like how serious they seem to be getting about this topic, nor how focused they are on him, nor how shifty eyed they are both being. He decides to turn the tables. “Well, I’ll have to share the patron saint of hunters with Sammy. I don’t mind. Hey, Cas is there a patron saint of geeks yet?”

“Isidore is patron of computers,” Cas answers, but he doesn’t allow Dean to catch his eye, and he is not smiling.

Dean gets up and stomps over to his research books. “Well, I think this whole conversation is downright fucked because you two are hiding something from me. So fuck you both, I’ve got research to do.” He begins to noisily page through the books. Plopping them around on the table with resounding thunks while muttering profanities under his breath. He sees his brother and his partner exchanging long looks like they are having a conversation without him.

“What? What the freaking Hell are you two not talking about? Spit it out ‘cause this emo drama queen sighing and shit is making me bat-shit crazy!” Dean’s frustration is getting dangerously high, so Sam decides to be straight forward with him.

“Dean, I’m not going to be Saint anything, dude. You’re the only guy here with a halo in his future.”

Cas shifts, and adds. “The best I can hope for is to have my existence forgotten. I would not be one of the heroes of any biblical tale.”

Dean shuts his eyes, refusing to picture an eternity where he is venerated and his brother – who jumped into Hell to save the world - and his hero – the frikkin angel who pulled him from perdition – were reviled. “Fuck that,” he says.

Sam looks at Cas. “Is there a patron saint of profanity?”

“Joan of Arc is the patron _against_ profanity,” Cas answers him.

“My money’s on Dean.”


End file.
